


Never Enough

by Tch0upi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drunk!Merlin, Episode: s04e09 Lancelot du Lac, Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Friendship, Gen, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:06:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tch0upi/pseuds/Tch0upi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing Merlin broken was like living in a constant night, a dark and a cold night. It was like never seeing the sun ever again. And yet, it still wasn't enough for Percival to tell him the truth. It would never be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> So here is a little story I thought about. A friendship we never saw in the show, between Merlin and Percival. Percival was close to Lancelot but so were Merlin, and I believe these two could have gotten closer after his death. And also... Percival was the one who, with Gwaine, went after Morgana and he's the one who report the news of Arthur's death to Camelot, wasn't he? So he had to met Merlin in the way didn't he? 
> 
> Sort of missing scenes... only friendship, except a little scene that "suggest" something more between Merlin and Lancelot.

He’d known about Merlin’s magic for a while now. In fact, he thinks he’s always know. Before he arrived in Camelot, before he even knew the boy and Arthur Pendragon. When he lived with his friend Lancelot before he was a knight. Lancelot was always talking about this special person he’d known since a long time ago, a man with great abilities, a kind heart, a whole lot of power but never the one to be selfish. A good man, Lancelot would always insist. Percival knew that Lancelot’s friend had magic — it was hidden between the lines and he wasn’t an idiot.

When he had received the letter, asking them to go help some of his friends, Percival had a little doubt. Was that the friend? But then Lancelot said it was the prince of Camelot and some other guys from Camelot from the time he was there, and Percival forgot about it all. It would be crazy, wouldn’t it? Why would a guy with great magical powers live around the prince of Camelot, in Camelot? It would be stupid…

And then Percival met Arthur, and Guinevere, and Merlin. And Elyan, Leon, the old man Gaius, all of Lancelot’s friends. Together they all fought to get Camelot back from Morgana’s claws. And then Percival had a doubt, once again, about this awkward yet very nice guy named Merlin. He had left with Lancelot to supposedly stop the bell, but he was sure they never even went there. Lancelot was with his ‘special and powerful wizard friend’, Percival knew it. Because how could have they succeeded? Merlin was too thin to be able to fight against a regular man, let alone an immortal army, and Lancelot on his own couldn’t win either. So Merlin had to had magic. He had to be the powerful and special friend Lancelot talked about. Percival was not stupid. He did the math. It wasn’t very hard to see.

So Percival always, secretly, admired Merlin. He was a silent guardian, a man who matched perfectly Lancelot’s description. Selfless, brave, courageous, special and powerful. How else could this tiny guy survive all of their patrols and hunting trips without so much of a scratch? Percival admired Merlin and respected him for everything he seemed to do in the darkness, everything he did for Arthur without the king even knowing. For everything he did without seeking recognition, without seeking reward and fame. Hell, he was so powerful and yet he kneeled every time they were on a patrol or in a hunting trip to make them food and hurt his fingers collecting the firewood. He served them all with a smile on his face…

He always thought the man was strong, stronger than they all were. Even stronger than the knights, so that was why Percival felt his heart drop painfully down his stomach when he saw Merlin kneeling on the side of a boat, at the Avalon river. On the boat was Lancelot, and seeing his friend there, dead — again — made Percival feel all the more upset. It had been hard for all of them to see their friend die again, but obviously, it was harder on Merlin’s shoulders. The young man was very close to the knight, Percival knew from what Lancelot always told him. They’d been friends for almost six or seven years.

He didn’t know if he should let Merlin know he was there, that he’d followed him. He wasn’t sure how the warlock would react. Percival could hear him sob quietly. Was that always like this? He knew it by now. Merlin was the ‘suffer-in-silence’ type of person. Always the cheerful guy, always a wide smile on his face, always there to support the weight of the world for just everybody. But no one knew how lonely and tired and broken he really was. Well, no one except Percival now.

He waited there, hidden behind a tree, and watched as Merlin, with his magic, made the boat drift away on the lake. He saw him lift a hand and then the boat, in the distance, caught fire. In the beautiful view of this time of day, the calmness of the water, the quiet and peaceful surrounding, it was the most magnificent scene he’d ever witness. The most amazing and touching funeral he had ever attended to.

Merlin didn’t stay very long. After about twenty minutes, he stood and turned around. Panicked, Percival tried to turn around and leave without being noticed but unfortunately, he stepped on a branch and the sound of the crack reverberated through the meadow. Merlin stopped in his track and Percival had no choice but to show himself.

“Percival?” he called, voice hoarse and surprised.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” he started to stutter. “I… I didn’t mean to spy on you or anything… Just wanted to check if you were alright…”

“H…How much did you…?” the young man asked, sounding a little worried.

Percival stood there, not knowing what he should do or say. Did Merlin want anyone to know? By the looks of him, it seemed not. But he couldn’t let the play continue. Percival knew about Merlin. He knew about everything he did. He deserved a little credit. Just a little. He deserved someone to be his friend, to know him, to share his heavy burden. And now that Lancelot was gone, Merlin was irrevocably alone. And somehow, it hurt the knight more than he expected.

“I just arrived.”

Merlin looked relieved. Did he really think any of them would hurt him?

Silence again. Percival looked at the young servant, now that he was facing him and that they were closer. Merlin had cried. Of course he had. Traces of tears on his pale cheeks, the usual light turned off in his blue eyes. Percival thought it was a shame that he didn’t know Merlin all that much. He was a knight of Camelot for about a year now. He liked it there. He liked his fellow knights, he liked the prince and now king, he liked the people. He liked Merlin. Very much. But he never knew how to get close to him, the way Lancelot were. Hell, the way Arthur was. He wanted to, because he was such a nice person. He could say without a doubt that he was his friend, but as much as Merlin was talkative and chatty, there always seemed to be so much dark things going on inside him. Secrets. And he was too good a person to have to deal with it on his own.

And he hated seeing him cry, though he understood why. Percival himself had let a couple tears run down his face the first and second time they had to mourn Lancelot.

“I’m sorry about Lancelot,” the large man said after a while, not knowing what else to say. “I know how close a friend he was to you.”

Merlin looked down, and for a moment, it felt like he was going to say something. To just let go of all that he was holding inside. But he only said, “Thank you for being here,” which frustrated Percival so much without him even knowing why exactly he felt that way.

“Maybe we should get back to Camelot” the knight said after a while.

Merlin wiped a few tears from his face and nodded, strong enough to grow a little smile at the bigger man.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” 

***

 

Later that day, Percival met Merlin again, in the armory, where he had to collect the king’s armor and some weapons. He’d heard them arguing when he passed by the royal chambers a little after lunch, the king shouting at him for whatever reason. Along with the other knights, Percival gathered his things in silence. The mood was kinda low since Lancelot’s death, and no one really felt like joking or talking too much. Not to forget that Gwen was gone too, banished, and Arthur was colder than ever, suffering about what had happened and therefore, making everyone suffer with him by being an ‘insufferable prat’, as Merlin would always say. He was harder in his trainings and harder on Merlin too as he could witness.

Percival sent him a furtive glance, as he took his sword, preparing for the training session. Gwaine, the last one in the armory, had just left, looking at Merlin too, and then sharing a worried gaze with the bigger knight. Percival watched as his friend left and then walked towards the young servant.

“Need some help?” 

Merlin didn’t bother to turn. He only shrugged.

“I’m fine.” 

“Arthur’s being a prat is he?”

He knew Merlin would answer to that. He could feel the tension, the slight shaking of his shoulders as he was keeping everything inside. Even Merlin needed to let it all out.

And it was exactly what he did: he turned and looked right at Percival, a cross-bow he was trying to fix in his hands. 

“He’s a royal clotpole, that’s what he is! Everything I do just to make him feel better, and all he does is yell at me! I’m so done with his childish attitude, he’s not the only one having a hard time. Hell, I’m having a hard year and does he hear me complain? No! It’s not my fault he had to go and banish the love of his life! Could he stop being a baby for once?”

Percival didn’t say anything. He just looked at the young man and nodded slightly. He knew how much trouble the king could be sometimes. Or as Gwaine always said, he was being a princess most of the times. He had every reasons to suffer, to feel hurt and betrayed, but he shouldn’t let it all on Merlin. Did Arthur even knew what his servant was going through?

After a while Merlin closed his eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I… I don’t… I don’t mean half of what I just said. Arthur’s not… he’s not being a baby, he’s suffering and I understand, but I…”

“Hey, it’s alright, Merlin. I got that. You’re tired. You’re suffering too. It’s alright to snap once in a while. Arthur is being hard on you and he shouldn’t. You’re too good to him.”

Merlin looked up at him. Percival didn’t know if it was the incredible blue of the eyes that went right through him but he felt like the words flew out of his mouth without his consent.

“Sometimes I think he doesn’t deserve you." 

Of course he had whispered the last words. Merlin jumped a little, not quite expecting someone to say that to him. 

“I should probably go now. We don’t want our princess to go mad, do we?”

He didn’t know exactly how but Percival managed to make a little smile appear on Merlin’s face.

“Queen, now,” he said with a grin and Percival chuckled.

“Yeah." 

“Percival?”

Before he had time to turn again, Merlin added:

“Thank you. I really mean it.”

“It’s nothing. Oh and by the way, Gwaine asked me to go at the tavern tonight. Just… forget about everything and have a good time. You wanna come?"

Merlin hesitated for a moment, but finally accepted. Percival could see his fingers tremble around the bow, and remembered how the same morning he’d been crying over his lost friend. Merlin deserved some friends to take care of him, to take his mind off things.

And that was exactly what he was going to do.

 

***

 

“Merlin! Mate, I’m so happy you’re here!” Gwaine exclaimed in the evening, when Merlin finally showed up.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I had to help Gaius with something.”

Percival was sitting next to Leon. Of course, Elyan wasn’t there. He didn’t really feel like celebrating anything with his sister gone. Merlin nodded at both of them before taking a seat next to Gwaine.

“Are you drunk already? It’s not even past 8 yet.”

“I’d think you’d know him better by now,” Leon joked, tossing a drink towards Merlin. “He is always drunk before he gets inside the tavern.”

Merlin grabbed his drink and thanked him. Gwaine wrapped an arm around him.

“Come on, we’ll have fun tonight, mate. Don’t listen to Sir Leon here, doesn’t know what he’s sayin’. Plus, he never gets drunk. Too perfect for that.” 

“You mind repeating that?” Leon whined, but with a grin.

The man was drunk, indeed, but Merlin smiled nonetheless, happy to be with his friends. He wished Arthur could be with them, having fun and thinking about other things. He hated to think he was in his chambers, all by himself, mourning his friend and missing Gwen, tormented between love, grief and betrayal. But he knew things weren’t as simple for him… 

Merlin swallowed his first of many mouthful of beer. He knew tonight he would get drunk. He needed just that. Needed to forget. Desperately needed to. Not just about Lancelot’s death, but Gwen’s departure.

That was his thoughts when he met Percival’s gaze. The big knight smiled a little at him before some other knights joined them. The rest of the evening came in a blur…

 

***

 

 

It was a little past midnight when the knights started to leave, some accompanied by ladies, others just too damn drunk they were more pushed outside than really leaving on their own. Gwaine was laughing so loud and falling around at every corner of every table that Leon had to take him by the arm to keep him from falling.

He turned to them.

“I think we’ll call it a night. Better take the idiot to his chambers before he gets sick all over himself.”

He took a quick glance at his friend while smiling at Gwaine.

“Take care of him, mate. And I hope for your sake he doesn’t get sick on the way back." 

“Yeah, let’s hope,” Leon sighed. He looked at Merlin and then back at Percival. “I believe you’ll take him home, right? Doesn’t look that good himself if you want my opinion…”

Percival turned his head and, indeed, Merlin didn’t seem to be quite there. His eyes were unfocused and his cheeks were flushed. Maybe he had had too much to drink. The big knight nodded at Leon. 

“I sure will. See you, Leon.”

They left, leaving only Percival and Merlin at their table. There were still many people around, the night was agitated, but most of their friends or the people they knew at least from view were gone. There were old men and guys they’ve never seen.

But when he looked at Merlin again, Percival knew it was too soon for him. Too soon after Lancelot. Only this morning he’d put him to his final rest, to his funeral. Why did he have to go and invite him to drink with them? He knew Merlin would get himself sick… But somehow, if he could forget, just for one night, if he could enjoy himself, it was good… wasn’t it?

“So how you holdin’ up?” he asked.

Merlin lifted his chin up. 

“Bored, actually. Wanna have some fun.” 

Percival didn’t have time to think about what to say, that Merlin was standing. He grabbed his arm to stop him as he was barely standing on his feet.

“Merlin, I think perhaps you should go to bed. You’re…”

“I’m just going to… I gotta… you know!” he said with a little chuckle.

“Alright. I don’t mind taking you home afterwards. Uh… take your time, then, I guess.”

Merlin didn’t say anything. He slipped from Percival’s grip, their skin touching sending shivers down Percival’s pine, and walked away, among all the men in the room. He disappeared upstairs and Percival sat there, prepared to wait for him.

Arthur wouldn’t want him to let Merlin walk home on his own while being almost too drunk to stand. Even though Percival knew Merlin could, better than anyone, take care of himself, he still didn’t want to let him go home in his state. Magical or not, he was still likely to pass out in the street or throw up and all… he still needed a friend.

 

***

 

He waited. And waited.

When the tavern was almost empty, and the bartender cleaning the counter loosely while yawning, Percival shot a look at the stairs. It had been a while now that Merlin went up to pee. Maybe he had fallen asleep somewhere, maybe he should go and see for himself. He was so drunk after all…

The knight decided then, and he stood up. He walked past the bartender who called at him.

“All the rooms are taken for the night, mate,” he said. “Though I don’t think you really need one,” he continued while staring at Percival from head to toe. “You sure have some nice quarters in the castle don’t ya, Sir _Knight_?”

“I don’t want a room,” he answered politely. “I just want to check on my friend. He went up a little while back and I think he might… be sick or something.”

The man shrugged but didn’t say anything more. Percival moved on and climbed the few steps. He was a little dizzy himself. He didn’t get drunk often but when he did he always felt sick — he always wondered how Gwaine could still be alive with drinking that much. He’d had a lot to drink tonight, but so had Merlin. And the alcohol in his smaller body must have affected him much more.

Percival then heard a few muffled sounds, coming from somewhere, but it was so dark he wasn’t sure if it weren’t the snoring of the residents. Some of the doors were not completely shut.

Where was Merlin? The knight walked in the corridor, his steps making the wood crack under his feet, and as he got further, the sounds became clearer. He was getting closer and the voices started to sound… familiar. Percival frowned and hurried, until he turned a corner of the dark hallway. And then he saw them.

Sir Thomas, an old knight, in his late forties, and Merlin. The knight was holding the younger man against the wall and his hand was on his thigh, near his hip, and was moving… as if he was caressing him. He wasn’t sure, with the darkness around them, but from what Percival could see, Merlin didn’t even have his eyes opened. He was limp against the wall, only standing up because of the other man’s body and arms. But he was awake, that much Percival could tell because he was moaning and protesting weakly.

“Stop it… I said… Ugh, let go…”

“You said it was alright, come on. We’re only getting started here… I know you like it.”

Percival frowned even more, jaw and fists tight.

“Hum,” he said. “Hey.”

Sir Thomas turned his head over, looking slightly annoyed.

“Sir Percival,” he simply stated with a fake smile.

“I believe he asked you to stop,” Percival said calmly, even though he wanted to castrate the guy.

“A second ago he was enjoying himself. Don’t get yourself fooled by his little deer eyes, mate. He’s like a common whore… He’s just more luxurious and therefore difficult, being the property of the king and all…”

Merlin bent on the side when Percival punched Sir Thomas square on the face without any sort of warning. His legs felt weak and were shaking, as Percival turned to him and offered his arm. Neither of them cared to take a look at the knight laying flat on the floor, unmoving.

“I’m not some damsel in distress, you know…” he muttered in a soft, low voice.

He looked like he was about to faint. Percival opened his mouth but Merlin shut him out:

“But thank you.”

“It’s nothing. Come on. I’ll take you to your chambers.”

Merlin couldn’t, for his life, walk in a straight line while being sober. Percival found him quite cute like this. And it was such a mystery to him to know that all of this power resided in such a clumsy body. But he helped him nonetheless.

They walked quietly on the streets, until Merlin, in the middle of the way, felt to his knees to throw up. The knight rolled his eyes and bent down, putting a hand to his back to try to sooth him. When he was done he held onto him to get up, and whined a little about his situation. It was a good sign though: if he had the energy to complain, he was alright.

“Such a bad day… shouldn’t have come… Ugh, no offense.”

“It’s alright. I’m sorry, I was the one who shouldn’t have invited you in the first place.”

They started walking again.

“No it was a good idea… but I shouldn’t have… drink this much… I’m a lightweight, you know…”

Merlin stopped again, and before Percival could understand that he was going to be sick again, Merlin had fell to his knees.

“I sure haven’t noticed,” he chuckled sarcastically. 

He listened to Merlin softy moaning and whining, and then helped him to his feet again. He supported Merlin’s weight all the way to the castle, and decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to wake up Gaius at this hour of the night so the old man could take care of him. He was the one who took Merlin to the tavern in the first place, so he would take care of him.

After a short walk, Percival helped an oblivious, and almost unconscious Merlin on his bed in his own chamber.

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?” the youth moaned. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

He opened his eyes, slightly surprised when he realized where he was, and looked at the big knight.

“I guess…”

“What did Sir Thomas meant when he said you were ‘enjoying yourself’?”

Merlin seemed to be thinking hard to remember, but then he frowned and closed his eyes again. 

“We… _kissed_ … actually. I wanted to have some fun, to… forget… I was lost and I felt sick and after a few minutes I wasn’t sure anymore, I just wanted to go home… I didn’t want anything with him you know, I was just… I was just missing Lancelot so damn much… I didn’t know what I was doing… I’m so happy you came to find me, Percival…” 

By the end of his sentence, Merlin was starting to cry softly. Maybe it was the alcohol, for Percival never saw Merlin cry. Never. But he was in tears now and he looked so broken that the knight himself felt hurt that he couldn’t do anything but stare at him.

“I wouldn’t have left without you. You’re my friend, Merlin.”

“You don’t know how hard it is without him… I feel like I’ve been torn apart… in million pieces… that will never be put back together.”

He was vulnerable, more than he ever was before and Percival fought back his own tears at the vision in front of him. Seeing Merlin broken was like… like living in a constant night, a dark and a cold night. It was like never seeing the sun ever again. The boy was always so bright, so happy, so innocent — though, in reality, he wasn’t. And it was all the more difficult because he, too, missed Lancelot cruelly.

“I do,” he whispered, moving closer to Merlin. His hand reached for his wrist and he took it gently, afraid to hurt him somehow. Merlin was fully crying now, he was biting his lip and trying to hold everything inside but the storm was too powerful, too strong for his wounded soul. He couldn’t, even him, even the strongest wizard that he was, keep it in. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t restrain it. He was still human, like everyone else. 

“I do, Merlin,” Percival repeated.

His hand moved higher until he caught Merlin’s, and he tightened his grip, his trembling fingers. Percival wasn’t sure what else to do but stay here, and feel the other’s pain, feel his own pain. Merlin was looking straight at him, right through him, his beautiful blue eyes full of tears, that were falling on his cheeks.

His breath was shaky; his chest trembling harder. Percival held his hand with such force he was sure to leave bruises, but he didn’t care, nor did Merlin. And after a while, as dizzy as he felt, Merlin lifted himself up and leaned against the knight’s broad chest, face against his shoulder.

Together they shared their grief. Because there was nothing else the both of them could share at the moment.

 

***

 

Merlin got better after a couple weeks. After that fateful night where the warlock had cried himself to sleep in his arms, Percival kept looking after him, to make sure he was getting better. Merlin continued to serve the prince, who became King not long after Lancelot’s death — which was preceded closely by Uther’s. Percival could see him smile again, sincere smiles, happy smiles. He soon went back to being his silly and cheerful self. And he was happy to see it.

More than happy.

 

***

 

Then the years went by, and Percival found himself at the lake of Avalon again. Heart wrenched out of his chest, rage filling his very soul. It was a sunny day, but a sad one. He could feel it as he walked silently in the meadow. Merlin was there, yet again. A boat with Arthur laying in it. Percival witnessed as Merlin, his whole silhouette trembling so hard he could see it from the distance, sent the boat floating away on the lake. He could see that it took the young man a few attempts to finally set the boat on fire, just like he had done so many years ago for Lancelot…

The heartbreaking sobs could then be heard in the distance, as the warlock collapsed to his knees, not strong enough anymore to keep himself together. 

The King was dead.

Arthur was dead.

Their friend. Their sovereign.

Their brother.

_Oh Merlin…  
_

Percival stepped further slowly, feeling the sun on his face, but feeling the cold in his chest, in his heart. How on earth were they going to tell Guinevere? To tell all of Camelot that their king was dead? But all Percival could think right now was how, for the whole universe’s sake, was Merlin going to be alright after that? He was in pieces, he was broken beyond repair, and that, Percival could see with his own eyes, as Merlin was kneeling on the ground, hands gripping the grass and head falling to his chest. It was almost too much for the world to carry on, how could a young man take it on his own shoulders?

As he got closer, he could see the river of tears on his face, the grimace of pure pain on his features.

_How am I going to tell you about Gwaine?_ the knight thought, feeling his heart break as another one of his friend died on the very same day.

“Merlin…” he called weakly.

The young man turned his head to the side, but didn’t stop crying, _couldn’t_. 

Percival looked into the blue eyes, and cursed himself. He _had_ to tell him. He had to… Gwaine was one of Merlin’s best friends and he’d lost him too. He needed to know.

He walked to him, and kneeled at his side. Merlin’s gaze had followed him.

“I couldn’t save him,” he said through his tears, between his uncontrollable sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was too late, I couldn’t save him.”

“Chh, Merlin, I’m sure you did everything you could,” Percival said, reaching for his arms to try and calm him down.

“It’s never enough! It’s never enough! Everything I do, I always fail to save everyone! Everyone just keeps dying because of me!”

“It’s not your fault Merlin. Please, listen to me. 

“Will, a-and Freya, and my father, and then Lancelot and Elyan too, and t-there was Morgana that I-I couldn’t save before, and then Arthur… They all die because of me, I should be able to save them, I should’ve… Why couldn’t I save any of them? What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? A-Arthur… Arthur is…”

He put his hand to his mouth then, as more sobs came shaking him like a giant wave. He shivered violently, his eyes showing so much suffering it was almost too much for Percival to see. It was like Merlin had just reached the point of no return. Like his life would never be the same, like all hope was lost forever, like he was dead too. Like he had just lost everything and not just one person.

“It’s not your fault Merlin.” _It’s mine. I couldn’t save at least Gwaine, for you…_ “Calm down, it’s not your fault. You did everything you could for Arthur. I know you did. You always did.” 

Merlin fought a little bit when Percival tried to pull him into his arms, but he used his strength to force him and then, too weak to go on struggling, Merlin let himself fall to the knight’s chest. 

And he cried, like never before. Loud sobs, loud cries that sounded like the King’s name, that resonated through the meadow and far into the surface of the lake, as if they could reach Arthur and wake him from his eternal slumber.

_I’m sorry Merlin._

Merlin had lost everything on this day, and Percival couldn’t tell him. He held him in his arms and couldn’t get himself to let the words flow. _Gwaine’s dead too, Merlin. You’ll have to add him to the list of all your loved ones._

A river of tears made its way down Percival’s face too. Tears he couldn’t keep down, and even this wasn’t enough for him to find the strength inside him. The strength to tell Merlin everything he needed to know.

Instead, he prayed. He prayed for everything to be alright again. He prayed for Camelot to be alright, for Guinevere to be able to move on, to heal from this lost. He prayed that life would go on and that the land would prosper, that Albion would live, peacefully, rise from the ashes of their present world.

He prayed for Merlin to smile one day again.

 

 


End file.
